Colored Words and Cups of Coffee
by writing-is-thinking-on-paper
Summary: "Travelling overseas was supposed to provide a sense of adventure. Sure, England isn't drastically different from the States, but he came to write about something new, a little piece of culture to compete with his journalist rivals. And when Eddie stumbles upon a young artist in a coffee shop, he's found it." AU!Peddie. Multichap.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! I fell off the face of the earth for a while, but I'm back now, and this time with a multichap. I'll try to be better about updating this... Hope you all enjoy :)**

He sits in stark contrast to those around him as he lets out a long sigh, his eyelids drifting to a soft close. The bold scent of coffee slowly creeps into his nostrils and arouses him from his daze. It's 7:30 on a Sunday morning, why would anyone want to be up?

The bell chimes against the door's glass surface as more people walk in, clad in work attire and all mumbling into cell phones pressed up to their ears. They're all the same, he figures. They share the same nervous glance down to their watch, and the impatient tap of their foot as they wait in line. He finds his favorite red pen drumming onto the table as he observes them, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

They're so predictable.

For a second he wonders if he'll ever see a fresh face in this shop. He's been in the city for a month and already inspiration is running low. Travelling overseas was supposed to provide a sense of adventure. Sure, England isn't drastically different from the States, but he came to write about something new, a little piece of culture to compete with his journalist rivals.

Though as he sits alone in this coffee shop, the pages of his notebook empty before him, he can't help but feel homesick. He misses his friends, his family, other loved ones...

With a disgruntled sigh the boy decides to survey his surroundings once more. Not much has changed from the morning rush; men in suits and women bearing briefcases still scramble to reach the front of the line. Though as his eyes flicker to the other side of the room, someone catches his eye.

Tucked away in a corner sits a woman no older than he. She sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the others; her patterned black tights and dark makeup are a refreshing change in scenery. Loose auburn curls fall partially in front of her face as she stares into a large notebook, one hand scribbling furiously across a page. He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of what she's writing. Drawing, rather.

_It isn't a notebook, but a sketchpad..._

His eyebrows arch slightly out of curiosity, "An artist..."

He watches for a while longer, each sweeping movement of her pencil observed with a glint of admiration.

Then suddenly, she stands. She walks towards the counter to retrieve her order, sketchpad and pencil now safely hidden away. The young woman grabs her cup of coffee with a forced smile, then walks briskly out the door, her tattered boots hitting the ground with a distinctive clap.

Perhaps it's because he's so bored, or because it's certain he won't find any 'inspiration' here, but something causes the American to stand up, stuffing the notebook into his backpack, then following her out of the shop.

"Hey, wait up!" He weaves through the pedestrians on the sidewalk to catch up to her, grinning as they fall into the same stride.

"Do I know you?" She asks sharply.

"Well, no..." He falters for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

"That's what I thought." Her pace quickens down the sidewalk as she saunters away. It only takes him a few seconds to register what's happened before he's running towards her again.

"You think you can get away that easily?" He smirks, "I'm Eddie Miller. American journalist."

"Does it look like I care?"

"No," Eddie shrugs, "But I didn't want you to think I was some creep."

"It's a little late for that." The girl stops outside a small brick building, pulling a key out of her bag and twisting the lock free.

"So, is this your place?"

"Yes."

"And... are those your drawings?" Eddie motions to the sketchpad sticking out from her bag.

"Obviously." She mutters, her hand tightening around the doorknob as he urges on.

"I never caught your name."

"Probably because I never said it," He gives her a long, hard look to which she sighs, "Fine... It's Patricia."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Patricia."

"Mhm..." She opens the door and starts inside, having no intention of speaking to the strange man again.

"Wait!"

Turning back to face him, she scowls, "What the hell do you want?"

Eddie pauses for a moment, trying to phrase his request the best way possible. He has a feeling this 'Patricia' is short tempered, and can already sense her patience withering.

"Remember when I said I was a journalist? Well... there's this human interest piece that I have to write while I'm here. And... you seem like an interesting enough human, so - "

"Excuse me?"

Maybe he hadn't said it the best way...

"Look, Patricia, I want to write an article about you... It'd be like a profile of an artist and their work. I'd have to follow you around for a few weeks and do some interviews, but - "

"A few weeks stuck with _you_? Uh, no thanks."

"Oh come on," He pleads, sounding more like a toddler than a full grown adult, "It's in your best interest!"

"Really?" Her hands settle on her hips as she raises a skeptical eyebrow, "What's in it for me, then?"

Eddie smiles crookedly, "The pleasure of my company, of course. Because we all know how you enjoy that..."

"Oh, please!"

"And," He adds pointedly. "Publicity. People read my articles, they find out about your work. It's as simple as that." The American leans against the wall while a satisfied grin creeps onto his lips.

He can see the hesitation in her eyes as she gives him a second glance, studying him for any signs of insincerity. The features of her face soften a bit when she realizes the boy's offer is entirely genuine.

_That's strange..._

The nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach returns, years of excruciating caution telling her to pull back now.

And so she does.

"Look, you're going to have to find someone else."

At his crestfallen face she adds an impersonal 'sorry' before continuing into her flat, squaring her shoulders and resisting the urge to look back again.

Though in all this fuss, she seems to have forgotten the trademark characteristic of any good journalist...

Persistence

**A/N: Not a very exciting chapter, I'll admit, but I wanted to introduce their situation before their friendship really becomes the main focus... It's been a while since I last wrote a multichap, so any suggestions are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hellooo! Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter, they really do make my day :) As you've probably figured out by now, Thursdays are going to be my update days. I'll probably slip up sometime in the future, but for now, I'm hoping to get everything out on time. Hope** **this** **chapter** **satisfies :3**

The pavement around him buzzes with a certain energy. It's the kind that crackles across the skin, and makes the heart beat just a little faster. It's the way they walk, so steady and determined, how they seem to stare directly ahead, with no sound capable of turning their glance. It seems as though everyone has somewhere to be, and everyone knows _exactly_ how to get there.

Then there's him...

"You know where you're going, boy?" A man appears from the shadows of his storefront to give Eddie a suspicious glance.

"Yeah... Yeah, of course," He manages a weak smile before continuing down the road, having no desire to talk to the owner of some creepy antique store.

Yet the truth lurks in the back of his mind, the miserable reality sinking onto his shoulders like an unwelcome guest.

Eddie is _lost_.

In the tangle of city streets and pointless banter, he had been oblivious to the route taken to Patricia's apartment. Instead, he had happily followed along, trying to initiate some sort of conversation between them, but failing... _miserably_.

It seemed like the girl wanted nothing to do with him, or his article, for that matter. Patricia had made that inescapably clear when she refused his offer.

Though for someone so bold, she seemed a bit _hesitant_ on her decision. Maybe that's why he came out here today.

And if all he gets is an earful of curses and a door slammed in his face, so be it.

Of course, none of this even matters if he can't find his way there. The boy's spent the past fifteen minutes bumbling around like some idiot, and this wandering has significantly darkened his mood.

With a dejected sigh Eddie stops to inspect his surroundings, "It has to be here somewhere..."

His eyes flicker over to the signs marking each road. One reads Chester, another Carter, and the remaining East.

_East Street_

Now that sounded familiar.

On a hunch he sets off in that direction, the backpack swinging off his shoulder with each forward stride. He walks a block or so before the familiar bricks from her building poke out into view, their rusty brown shade looking red in the sun's early glare.

Grinning madly, Eddie saunters up to her door, broadening his shoulders and curving his lips into an arrogant smirk.

_Her face is going to be priceless..._

"Hey, it's me!" He can hear someone stirring on the other side while he waits. Soon enough, the door's flung open to reveal the young woman from yesterday, a look of pure shock written across her features.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she glares at the American, "I thought I told you to go away!"

"Well, you thought wrong," Eddie wears an impish grin as he continues, "You told me to find someone else for my article. You never said we couldn't be friends."

"Friends are overrated."

"So's Starbucks. But that doesn't stop people from going there, does it?"

Her eyes narrow into slits, "That doesn't even make sense."

"Course it does," Eddie shrugs, "Besides, I'm already here so why don't you just enjoy the company. Doesn't seem like you get too much of it."

"If you came here to change my mind, you're off to a terrible start."

"Who said that's why I'm here?"

"Well, no one, really. But I just know because - "

"Then you don't _know_, you _assumed_." the boy strolls further into her flat, picking a few stray papers off her counter and giving them a scrutinizing glance, "Seriously, are you always this cynical?"

"No... but I'm _always_ right," she stifles the smirk creeping onto her lips before snatching the papers from his hands, "And don't touch my stuff!"

His eyes flicker with amusement as he surrenders, settling into a chair and propping his feet up on the table in front of him.

"I already did."

She releases a sound of disgust at his blatant immaturity, then strides over to her door, swinging it open and motioning a hand outside.

"Well," she looks expectantly at the blonde, "Aren't you going to leave now? You can't convince me."

He straightens a bit at this remark, "Would you at least let me try?"

"Why should I?"

"Because that would be the _normal_ thing to do," Eddie scoffs, "Honestly, I don't get what your problem is. It's a win-win situation!"

"A bloody nightmare is what it is."

Despite the lethal glare cast in his direction, he can't help but sputter out a laugh, "That's a little dramatic."

Her glower intensifies, "Whatever, Slimeball. Just leave me alone, yeah?"

"No. Not until you hear me out."

She contemplates going over there and smacking him repeatedly until surrender. Eddie deserves it, after all. Though one look at his smug grin and she knows it won't be that simple.

As distasteful as the option seems, she has to at least let him make an appeal. The slimeball would never leave her alone, otherwise.

Her lips twist into a scowl as she continues to glare at the boy, "Fine. You've got one minute."

"And now you're being reasonable... I'm shocked."

"Fifty-five seconds..."

"Okay, I get it!" he pushes up from the chair, every bit of sarcasm clear from his face as he addresses her, "Look, Patricia, it's just two weeks... that's all I'm asking for. I won't even come everyday if you don't want me to."

"That's it?"

"Well, I could stay longer if you'd like," he's met with a look of disgust from the girl and grins ruefully, "I was kidding."

"Funny," she says dryly, though the corners of mouth threaten to curve upwards.

"But seriously, you won't even know I'm - " suddenly, he stumbles backwards, consequently knocking over a jar of pencils and sending stacks of paper fluttering towards the floor, "Here..."

"You're off to a great start with that."

Now completely humiliated, the boy heads towards the door, "Well, I've broken enough personal rules for one day... I should probably go."

"Yeah, you probably should."

Eddie turns back once more, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he adds, "Though if I show up tomorrow, don't be surprised."

"Creep."

He grins lightly at her before exiting the flat, only to be drawn back in when a voice calls from behind.

"Hey, hold up, Slimeball! I mean... you're already going to show up tommorrow, so you might as well..." Patricia trails off slightly, the words not finding their way off her tongue.

"I might as well what?"

She tosses up her hands in exasperation, "Unbelieveable... You seriously can't understand what I'm getting at?"

He simply shrugs, "Maybe I just want to hear you say it."

A small grin pulls at the corner of her lips as she leans against the door, "I'll see you tomorrow, Doofus." And with a roll of her eyes it's slammed in his face.

Eddie turns away from her apartment, chuckling softly as he's surrounded by the bustling city once more.

_I knew she'd warm up to me_...

**A/N: I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but I really wanted to get something posted. Nevertheless, I would love to receive some feedback from you all! Feel free to leave any comments, suggestions, predictions, or whatever you're in the mood for... Thanks for reading :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The feedback on this story continues to overwhelm me. Seriously, you guys are all great! I feel terrible for not updating this in such a long time, but I actually had a lot of difficulty with this chapter. Something about it didn't really click so I ended up scrapping the original and starting over. That took a lot longer than I thought it would, but I tried to make it up with this chapter :3 Enjoy!**

Eddie Miller is, perhaps, the biggest Slimeball in the world.

He's rude, obnoxious, and arrogant. And in the two times they've met, he's managed to fulfill almost every American stereotype she can think of (except the fact that he's _incredibly_ fit...).

But today, his most notable characteristic comes when she glances down at her watch...

Eddie Miller is fifteen minutes late.

She should have seen it coming. His undeniable charm and wit could get him everything in life. People were always chasing after _him_, grateful that he even decided to show up. Any tardiness on his behalf would be excused, laughed at, even.

_"That's the Eddie we know and love,"_ they'd probably say, before carrying on with their meeting or party, and barely giving his late entrance a second thought.

But Patricia hardly _knows_, and certainly doesn't _love_, this American. So when he arrives at her doorstep, clutching a loose paper bag and chatting loudly into a cellphone pressed against his ear, the greeting she provides isn't nearly as kind.

"Nice of you to finally show up,"

Eddie grins slightly, seemingly unfazed by her insult, before lifting the mysterious paper bag and setting it on the counter, "Sorry, I got a little distracted on the way here."

"What you really mean is you talked to your friend the whole time. Seriously, couldn't you have told him to bug off?"

"Actually, that was my Mom," a wry smile spreads across his lips as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Oh... right," she clears her throat, "Sorry, I'm not really a morning person."

"That I can see," Eddie pulls a cup from the bag and offers it to her, "Anyways, I, uh, brought you some coffee... thought it might help with the whole crankiness thing."

It remains in his outstretched hand while he waits for her to accept. The steam gently curls around the lid before drifting off into the air, its sweet scent trailing closely behind. A hint of vanilla mingles with the harsh tang of the drink itself, its aroma strong enough to jolt her brain awake without being unpalatably bitter.

_Exactly_ how she likes it...

"How'd you know what I usually order?" She peers at the boy leaning casually against the counter, her eyes brimming with unmasked suspicion.

He only shrugs, "I heard you in the shop the other day and figured that's what you like."

"That's so stalky," she mutters, "But, uh, thanks... I guess."

Eddie nods cordially in response before turning to view her apartment in greater detail. It's comfortable enough, with two rooms branching off from the kitchen, and narrow hallways lined with a plain, tan carpet. The walls are coated in a simple shade of white, though the other rooms appear to hold a darker color. Purple, maybe.

He walks over to her small kitchen table and pulls out a chair, eyes widening at the mess of papers scattered across its surface.

Letters, bills, receipts and..._ sketchpad_.

On the table's scratched surface sits the sketchpad from the other day, its worn, leather exterior and cream colored pages bound together by a single string. He smiles softly at the familiar relic before flipping open the cover to take a look inside.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes flicker up at the sound of her voice. Patricia shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other as a curious expression inhabits her features.

"Oh... I was just - "

"Going through my stuff... _again_."

"Right," the boy smirks, "I just thought an artist would _want_ people to see their work... Guess not."

"Well, those aren't done yet, Doofus," she pulls the sketchpad from his grasp and carries it off into another room. Eddie can't help but notice the way her head ducks as she turns away, almost as if she's hiding a blush.

In retrospect, maybe it _had_ been a bit ignorant of him. He never liked to show people his writing until it was absolutely finished. Otherwise, it made him feel so... vulnerable.

Why did he expect her to act any different?

Sighing softly, he slumps further back into his seat, propping his feet up onto the opposite chair. Eddie allows his mind to wander while he waits for the Brit to return. So much, in fact, that he hardly hears the soft footsteps padding into the kitchen as she enters again.

"Alright, so what do we do now? You can't just sit there all day."

"Hmm?"

Patricia rolls her eyes, "Doofus! You weren't even paying attention!"

"Sorry, I keep getting distracted by this mess. Seriously, aren't women supposed to be good at the whole cleaning thing?"

"You did _not_ just crack a female stereotype joke. Come on, Eddie, at least make it original. I expected more from you."

"I didn't try too hard on that one," he smiles faintly, "But I _do_ have to try and take pictures of this place for the article. And I think most people would want to see a neat apartment. Unlike yours..."

"Oh, so your apartment is spotless, yeah?" Eddie starts to speak, his red pen raised confidently in the air before it falls, "That's what I thought."

Shaking off the last of his confusion, the boy addresses her once more, "Look, all I'm saying is to straighten up a bit. You want to make a good impression, right?"

"Fine..." her eyes glint with mischief as she continues, "But you're going to help me."

"What?! I meant _you_ clean up, not _me_!"

"Well, you were the one that brought it up," she grins triumphantly, "Didn't see that one coming, did you, Slimeball?"

He nods glumly before dropping his head onto the table, the loose papers fluttering towards the floor with the new rush of wind.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

**A/N: Hah, poor Eddie. Cleaning has always been one of my least favorite things to do... As always, any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I'd love to hear what you have to say about this story so far! Feel free to leave any ideas or suggestions for future chapters while you're at it. Thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello! As always, thank you for all the kind words on the last chapter. You guys are all awesome :) I'll warn you that this chapter is definitely shorter than the others. I contemplated the idea of combining it with the next one, but the two didn't seem to flow together very well... Nevertheless, I hope you still enjoy it!**

"I'll take that," Patricia swoops in to grab the cup of coffee from his hold.

The boy smirks, "Not even a thanks?"

"Like you deserve one."

"I _obviously_ do," he smiles lightly before taking a seat at the kitchen table, arms folding upwards to support the back of his head, "But come on, it's not that hard."

"Uh, yeah it is," she offers a smug grin, "And I'd hate to disturb your little rest, but I sent you on a coffee run, not a lunch break."

The American begrudgingly pushes up from the chair, shuffling towards the living room with a few choice words mumbled in her direction.

Patricia rolls her eyes, "So you can finish up in here, yeah?" Eddie waves her off dismissively, watching her form retreat into the other room before setting to work again.

He slowly sifts through the pile in front of him, tossing each object aside in a way that could hardly be considered cleaning. Though this time he tosses it too far, and the form flutters down towards the floor and out of sight. The boy cusses softly, then ducks his head to peer under the couch. Finding the original paper is simple, as it's tucked only a few inches under, yet there's another thing that catches his eye. A simple white envelope is hidden much farther back, it's faded white standing out amongst the dark floors. Eddie stretches out his hand until the tips of his fingers graze the rectangle.

"Gotcha!" he whispers before pulling the discovery back towards him.

His eyes feverishly scan over its surface, searching for some indication of its significance. It's just a letter, after all, addressed to a stately _Miss_ Williamson and with a return address of someone living farther north.

But then he flips to the other side, and his eyes wander across the seal that reads_ From Mr and Mrs Tom Williamson_, yet it no longer holds the envelope shut. The letter's been opened, a while ago too, and if reading it wasn't tempting enough before, now it's almost unbearable.

He reckons it's probably just from her parents. But if so, why were they sending _letters_? Most would give a phone call, send an email, maybe, but a formal letter...? Didn't they realize it's the 21st century?

Ensuring Patricia is still busy in the other room, he then tips the envelope upside down, watching as a thrice folded piece of paper tumbles towards the floor. His fingers quickly flatten it out, and soon he's staring directly at a page filled with nearly illegible cursive.

"Seriously?" he mutters, clearly annoyed, while squinting hard to decipher the words.

"Eddie!" suddenly his eyes grow wide with panic, the sound of each approaching footstep signaling his impending doom.

The American scrambles to put the envelope back in place, but not before she catches sight of the small white rectangle sliding under the couch again.

"What are you doing?" her words are slow and suspicious.

"Nothing." he replies, all too quickly, before rising to his feet again.

If Patricia has any recollection of the letter, she voices no concern. Yet her eyes linger on him for perhaps a second too long, and they hold a certain vulnerability that he's never seen before. And the whole situation is so _strange_, so out of character, that the air around him seems to thicken, and the constant hum of the radiator is all he can hear in the otherwise heavy silence.

So he decides he won't bring it up...

For now, at least.

**A/N: So that marks the end of the fourth installment, which means we're roughly halfway through. The total number of chapters is still a bit flexible :3 I would love any feedback from you all. If you have any ideas or predictions for future chapters, feel free to share those too! I'm always open to new ideas. Thanks for reading, and remember to review :)**


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